


All of Your Flaws

by Aminias



Series: I Fought Whole Galaxies For You [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale pack, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Multi, Older Stiles Stilinski, Peter gets loved, Soulmates, Time Travel, UST, Unconventional Soulmates, Young Chris Argent/Peter Hale, Young Peter Hale, but some angst because memory loss, love at first snark, prompt, prompt me baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 06:56:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9589760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aminias/pseuds/Aminias
Summary: “Half of yourself for half the man you knew?”“I’m already half of myself without him.”“You won’t remember.”“I don’t have to. He will.”“They’re not the same.”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Green](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green/gifts).



> Prompt fill for Greenie first time attempting time travel with Older!Stiles and Young!Peter
> 
> Thanks to Slasher Fiend for the grammar check and sound advice.
> 
> Thanls to Odd for letting me frantically talk and hash things out with them and being there at the fics birth.
> 
> Enjoy folks.

“Just give me this one.”

“None of the others?” The entity asked. “You came this far to the beginning of time for one?”

Stiles swallowed. There was little he wouldn’t give to see that smirk again, the whisper of his name  on those lips.

His knees shook, god he  hadn’t in all honesty expected to make it this far. 

The enormity of what he was doing hit him now as he stood across from the serene golden being. 

“What about your father? Is he not worth the same price?”

What about his father? Everyone always says you have to love your family. 

That doesn’t mean you like them. Dad had tried so hard towards the end. 

Maybe he could . 

No. Stiles shook his head. He wouldn’t let himself be tempted to stray.

 

The Deity smiled, and it was as if the very light of the sun was burning within the arch of those lips. Stiles’s stomach felt queasy just looking at the robed  being. 

As those fathomless eyes passed over him, he felt drawn taut as a puppet on a string dangling at the whim of the master. 

This place, for such an open plane felt stuffy and crowded. His hands felt sweaty as he gripped his shirt. 

 

“Just this one.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. I’m sure!” Stiles angrily tugged his hair.  “I know the price.”

“Do you? This will be giving up the core of yourself.”

“Are you trying to talk me out of it?” 

 

This was a first. Usually the supernatural entities couldn’t wait to dig out his insides and root around till they grasped the golden bit that made him, him. 

Of course, this was a Deity. There would be no warning or statement of intent. If this being wanted what Stiles had and didn’t feel inclined to trade for it, they’d simply take it. 

Ripping his still beating heart out probably wouldn’t even stain those pristine robes. 

 

“Simply stating a fact. It matters not to me what you decide. As they say, all or nothing.” 

 

“Liar, you need me.” 

 

“Ah, but which one of us needs the other more?”

 

Stiles gritted his teeth. He glared, annoyed by the amusement he knew was radiating from the other across from him. 

 

His magic... All of his magic gone?

 

Just like that?

 

Could he live without having flame at the tip of a finger? No more waving his hand or using an idle thought to create  a mountain ash line. That match inside his chest never roaring into a monstrous blaze again? For Peter, yes.  

Hadn’t he started with only bare knuckles and raw wit? Since when did he need a boost to keep up with the rest of the pack? 

He’d been stumbling and wheezing his way through the woods since before the spark ever came to life. 

Stiles was the point man, the planner, the doer. Have an impossible job or task? 

Who you gonna call? Stiles, that’s who. He’s the boy who runs with wolves. 

He is part of the pack, and damn if he won’t give his all to get every single one of them back. 

 

He took a deep breathe. 

 

Go big or go home and Stiles won’t go home without Peter. 

 

“I managed well enough before without my magic. I’m sure they have baseball bats where he is- America's pastime and all that.”

“Half of yourself for half the man you knew?”

“I’m already half of myself without him.”

“You won’t remember.”

“I don’t have to. He will.”

“They’re not the same.”

 

Those eyes won’t lose their mischief. They will dance the same tune when they meet Stiles. Will he know, is the question.

The thought rests heavy in his heart. Will he gaze into those depths and find everything laid out as clear as Mediterranean waters? 

What if Stiles sinks too far into the Atlantic depths, gets entrenched beneath the dark waters, and doesn’t know that Peter is the air he's looking for to ease the burning in his lungs? Perhaps they’ve both been scorched one too many times and are just shy of this time being the last.

Peter wouldn’t. He lives to spite. 

So does Stiles these days. If anyone can roll the dice and wrestle up a snake eyes it's them. 

Who cares what if. His wit, his drive, the very essence of his being will not change. 

 

“He’s still Peter.” 

“Ah, the soul always knows. Then that's what you're betting on?”

“No, it’s what I’m sure of. Quit dicking around and do it already.”

“My patience only extends so far.”

“That’s funny, thought you had all the time in the world.”

Clearly he was experiencing an even larger mental break than usual. He can check taunting a god off his bucket list. 

“Keep this up and you will not, son of Steve.”

“Huh, Adam and him. Who knew? I mean, this is all very fascinating, great Deity dude... er, lady? Are you a lady? With the robes, I mean it’s. . . .” 

The entity raised a hand placatingly. “Stiles, I don’t give a fig.” Too far. The last dam between tears and hysterical laughter broke and Stiles was hacking and wheezing into his hands. 

“Right, since that's a thing. Mind working the mojo and beaming me up?”

**Author's Note:**

> Your kudos let out a mournful battle cry at the coming ust, your comments fall over themselves to provide comfort.
> 
> @shudder-dove


End file.
